Wine and Gun

Albarino said as he slammed the door shut, his voice calm and pleasant, as if they weren't discussing dismemberment.

He continued: "I try not to take home very large things to do, but it doesn't matter if you do things like sticking gold leaf on bones at home."

Herstal certainly knew what he was referring to: the pure white flowers on the desk at the A\u0026H law firm. He gave Albarino a sullen look, and the latter ignored his gaze with a smile, and turned around to the back of the car to open the trunk of the car.

——There were two items tightly wrapped in plastic sheets in the trunk, but no matter how tightly they were wrapped, they could not cover up the rancid smell that was gradually exuding from that thing. The whole picture is extraordinarily like a horror movie at this time, and Albarino just wants to thank fortunately that it is still winter, otherwise the corpse must have entered the state of giants after being wrapped so tightly for two days.

He wasn't the tasteless guy who would display dead bodies at home, and even if he were a forensic doctor, he couldn't stand a whole rotting corpse with its tongue stuck out of its mouth with putrid gas: nothing else. That said, there is no need to mention the taste.

It's Friday, because Mr. Amalette, a wonderful lawyer with a busy schedule, has been given a Friday night to get off work before he can deign to deal with the man he killed on Wednesday. Not to mention Thursday — which is Thanksgiving, who set it up? ——He even has a court hearing to attend, and of course, it turns out that there is more reason to push the serial killer's amateur activities of dealing with dead bodies to nothing.

And Albarino put on a bloody "I won't clean up if you don't clean up" expression, as if they were talking about the dirty dishes piled up in the sink after dinner. Although he was still on vacation, it was clear that he would rather actually go to the forensic bureau to harass his living colleagues than let the two corpses move from the floor of Herstal's house.

They were in a sort of childish tug-of-war over the whole thing about "why is it my turn to do the chores today" - finally, Friday came and they were able to drive the two bodies to Albaly Nuo is a mysterious and sinful base that belongs only to spiritual perverts.

Albarino stretched out one of the tightly wrapped black bags, his face unchanged, as if he hadn't smelled the rotten sweetness in the air at all. He smiled at Herstal and said, "Come on and help, you know it's not a one-man job."

Only people like Albarino can talk about what they are doing in Gān now as if they were printing documents with a printer.

Herstal stared at him unhappily, while Albarino softened his tone pretentiously: "Come on, you said you want to help."

two days ago.

Since the first time Hestal met Albarino Bacchus, he has been constantly thinking about this question: how in the world his life came to be this way.

The bathroom was steaming with steam, and Herstal sank himself into the bathtub, feeling the tense muscles relax little by little. In the shower just now, his skin was rubbed and red, mainly because the bastard Albarino had covered him with blood; when he killed, he didn't care about the warmth of the splash However, when the whole process is over, the heart rate returns to normal, and the adrenaline is no longer dominating a person's actions, and he will be unable to restrain himself from disliking those dried-up stains.

In the other corner of the bathroom, the water from the shower head was still pounding the ground, Albarino was washing his hair with his back to him, and the skin of his unscarred back glistened in the light—so in this Time to repeat the original question: How did his life come to be like this?

How could he have been reduced to sharing a bathroom with another killer?

As Albarino brazenly squeezed into the bathroom of Herstal's master bedroom, Herstal admittedly questioned "why didn't you use the guest room", which sounded plausible. Albarino blinked and said happily: "But, we all killed together, why can't we take a bath together?"

This answer is so dàngdàng that it will make all the cops at WLPD cry, including Bart Hardy - especially Bart Hardy.

The naive ghost was blocking Herstal's bathroom door, and Herstal, who was particularly uncomfortable with the dry blood on his body and the cloth stuck to his skin, frowned and asked, "I have to put it on your head. It takes one shot to get you to give up on that idea, right?"

"I'm pretty sure the only gun in the whole room is in my holster, next to my coat." Albarino was definitely not trying to tune the word "mine" on purpose, his smile It seems to be more pleasant, "And even if you don't agree, I won't be forced, but I will stand here pitifully looking at you, and let you be condemned by your conscience."

Seriously, talk about a ghostly conscience to a pervert murderer.

With blood all over his body, and with this blood to clean up the crime scene for two hours, he smelled of bleach and was extremely exhausted - needless to say, before cleaning the crime scene , the two of them came together in a pool of blood, how in the world would anyone use the cleaning of crime scenes as the end of sex? - Herstal really didn't want to argue with Albarino about such a boring question.

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